


Veritaphobia

by BustyWritesStuff



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham Asylum (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Body Horror, Body Modification, M/M, Spoilers, Unhappy Ending, all other characters besides ed and jon are cameo's at best just f.y.i, basically things are sad and continue to be sad until this lil fic ends, so y'know what? Enjoy haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BustyWritesStuff/pseuds/BustyWritesStuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt on Tumblr.</p><p>'Love' is a funny word. A funny, foreign word that Edward Nygma never really understood.<br/>Almost 2 years after his apparent death at the hands of Killer Croc during The Joker's infamous 'Arkham Asylum' Incident, Edward Nygma has finally come to terms with Jonathan Crane's death. Easy Peasy.<br/>But then Jonathan turns out to be alive. Of course he does. Since when have things ever been so cut-and-dry for Super Criminals?</p><p>(Spoiler Alert: The Answer is 'Never')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritaphobia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DittyWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/gifts).



Edward looked down towards the crumpled strip of dirty paper in his hands and then back up towards the desolate boutique before him with what could only be described as a grimace of sheer trepidation on his sharp features.

74 Cheshire Boulevard. The Pretty Princess Boutique. Yes, this was certainly the right address, no matter how much Edward wished that it wasn’t. Sighing aloud to himself as he let the paper in his hand be carried off by the breeze, Edward sucked in a deep, shaky inhale and forced himself to step forward off of the street and into the apparently abandoned boutique.

 

It had been 2 years since the Asylum incident, and Edward hadn’t seen or heard from Jonathan since that fateful night. According to various whispers and rumours that had managed to escape the destroyed ruins of the once illustrious Asylum, Jonathan had met a definite and grisly end at the hands of a hungry Killer Croc.

 

Edward would never admit it to a living soul, but he had grieved for his fallen companion. While they had never bothered with technicalities and nametags, whatever strange relationship He and Jonathan had shared had meant a lot to Edward, and hearing that one of the few people on this godforsaken rock that he thought wasn’t completely worthless had punched their ticket early had been oddly difficult for Edward to process. He had never been good with dealing with his emotions, so needless to say ‘Grief’ was all a bit foreign to him.

In true ‘Riddler’ fashion, Edward had pushed whatever those feelings were down where they could fester away into yet another psychosis and decided that there was no use in crying over spilt milk, no matter how much the milk had meant to him.

Despite the unhealthy approach he had taken towards Jonathans apparent death, Edward was almost ashamed at how happy he had felt when he received word that not only was Jonathan was alive, but that he wasn’t to see him too. 'Giddy’ was the word he’d personally use to describe how he felt, and honestly it was embarrassing.

 

Oh god, was he getting soft in his advancing years?

 

As expected, things inside the boutique were not much better than what appeared to be happening outside. The place looked as though a hurricane had tore through it and everything seemed to be scattered around carelessly.

There were countless salon chairs spread all around the rooms in various states of disrepair coupled with several manicure tables all in the same sort of way. Judging from the look and the smell, the entire room seemed to be covered in scorch marks and Edward was almost ashamed to admit that he hoped the sickening red smear leading from the centre of the room into one of the supply closets was some ironically placed nail-polish.

 

Carefully tip-toeing further into the room as silently as he could, Edward couldn’t help but tut disapprovingly as he took in the view the room offered up. Unnerving and manic. Very 'Jon’ in that sense he thought to himself as in the distance in what Edward assumed was the staff-room, the slightest glimmer of light could be seen poking out from behind the only just opened door.

“Oh well, here goes nothing I suppose…” Edward whispered to himself as he silently continued to creep along the destroyed boutique and towards the light.

 

“What do you think your doing? Asking scum like Isley and Nygma to join our cause? That was never part of the bargain!” Barked a sharp and distorted sounding voice from within the staff-room. Despite the fact that the the mystery man’s voice was clearly being cloaked by all manner of high-tech distorters and the like, it was still… oddly familiar. For the shortest moment Edward tried his best to place it, but for the life of him he just couldn’t think where exactly he’d heard it before. Never mind, it would more than likely come to him eventually.

“Bargain? What Bargain? You sought me out, remember?” Replied a voice Edward knew all too well. It was Jonathan’s.“You still seem to be confused about who exactly is the one running the show here child.”

“I’M THE ONE WHO’S CONFUSED?! You need to remember who’s the one with the army and the inside knowledge old man! You’d be nowhere without me!” The distorted voice boomed one more while somewhere in the room, Jonathan forced out a laboured sounding laugh that sent shivers running down Edwards spine.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you child? That I fear the loss of your troops and your apparently priceless knowledge? If you really think you have even the slightly level of power over me then you’re more clueless than originally though. Now get out of my sight, I have work to do…” Jonathan said with a viscously callous cackle as from within the room a heavy set of footsteps begun pounding down towards the door into the staff-room furiously.

Before Edward had any time to properly react, a toweringly tall figure glad head to toe in militarized body-arm and wearing a Batman-esk visor came powering out of the room and into the boutique. Edward instinctively froze on the spot and look at the figure’s visor with a piqued eyebrow while the figure tore through the boutique and carried on outside, not evening paying Edward the slightest modicum of attention, almost as if he weren’t there.

 

Oh god, what had Jonathan got himself wrapped up in now?

 

“You always did have a way with words 'Crow. Nice to see some things never change.” Edward purred playfully as he stepped into the light of the staff-room and presented himself to his once-lost companion in true over-confident 'Riddler’ fashion.

“You say that now Nygma, but I’m willing to bet I can surprise you yet…” Jon replied weakly. It was unfortunate however that what he was greeted with almost instantly dissolved his resolve and knocked Edwards sideways

.

In front of him, Jonathan was a complete and utter mess. There was no other way to describe it, he looked absolutely horrible. Currently dressed head to toe in full 'Scarecrow’ garb, Jonathan looked up from his desk and towards Edward, something Edward is ashamed to admit forced the tiniest shiver out of him at the sight.

While the suit itself was unremarkable and seemed to be pieced together from all manner of different parts from all his previous costumes, Jon himself was in a state of complete disrepair. His wonderful hazel eyes were now a milky white colour and from what he could see between the oozing gaps between his garish mask, his face looked to have been completely decimated at some point and in a hap-hazard attempt to fix it up Jon had literally sown his mask onto his face. His right arm and left leg were wrapped up tight in horribly botched rusty supports and judging from the smell Jonathan either hadn’t bathed in weeks or was suffering form a horrific strain of gangrene. Judging from his appearance, chances are it could be a case of both.

 

“Dear god Jon, what happened to you?” Edward whispered as he inched further into the room and towards Jonathan. Across the room, Jonathan failed to react to a word Edward said.

“Jon? Jon? Jonathan? Earth to Jon?” Edward said plainly as across from him, Jonathan visibly narrowed his milky eyes and his shredded mouth twisted upwards into a truly terrifying grimace. It was at that point Edward finally put 'two and two’ together and was ashamed to admit that he felt his heart break just a little at the realisation. Jonathan wasn’t in the room, Edward was talking with 'The Scarecrow’.

“I’m… I’m talking to Scarecrow, aren’t I?” Edward said, failing miserably to hide the disappointment in his tone as he spoke.

“Ah Edward. Sharp as ever. I was beginning to fear that you’d lost your touch.” The Scarecrow muttered as he forced himself up from his work-station and begun hobbling over towards the male standing on the other side of the room.

“What is this about Scarecrow?” Edward said, deciding that any time spent around this mindless golem was a complete and utter waste of his precious time.

“It’s very simple Edward, we’re going to kill The Batman” The Scarecrow forced out from between his rotten lips as he hobbled closer and closer towards Edward, his monstrously hollow eyes seemingly focus on the green suited figure before him, although truthfully Edward couldn’t be sure where those soulless milky whites were looking exactly.

“Oh my goodness Scarecrow, what a brilliant plan! Why haven’t I thought of that before? Oh wait, I have. And every time we try and do something about The Bat it usually ends up with him breaking several of our ribs, fracturing countless of our bones and then throwing us in the nut-house to spend yet another week in the Arkham I.C.U getting pumped full of morphine while being poked and prodded at like battery hens.” Edward baulked as he took a single step backwards away from the approaching ghoul drawing ever closer to him. As he shifted away, The Scarecrow heaved out a laboured sounding chuckle.

“Oh Edward. Edward Edward Edward… I can see why Jonathan was so fond of you…”

 

Was. Jonathan WAS fond of him. The past tense in The Scarecrow’s statement cut through Edward’s confident demeanour effortlessly and left him feeling vulnerable and open for what felt like the first time in forever.

“Was huh? That’s… troubling. I suppose this is the part where I start crying, mourning over the loss of whatever non-existent relationship Jonathan and I shared, right?” Edward said as he fixed his feet down firmly onto the ground, feeling oddly defiant and petty as he forced down the pain he felt and stared The Scarecrow down with fire in his eyes.

“You always were so dramatic Edward. Glad to see some things never change.” The Scarecrow snarled out as he finally came to a stop, his face now only a few mere inches away from Edward’s face as he stared upwards and into his eyes.

“Hmm. I know it goes against all the usual rules of the game, but Edward… can I ask you a question?” The Scarecrow said in a hushed tone as he exhaled heavily onto Edwards face.

Managing to stifle a gag at the smell that radiated from the open wounds littered all over The Scarecrows ghastly visage, Edward stared back into The Masked Figures hollow eyes with a defiant smirk on his face and his body tense and ready to pounce at a moments notice.

“I don’t see why not. Ask away Scarecrow”

“Did you love him?” The Scarecrow asked as Edward felt his stomach literally drop. All at once the room seemed to start spinning around him and Edward was sure he was about to be sick, although he was telling himself that the smell of rotting flesh dancing around his nostrils had more to do with that than Scarecrow’s question did.

“Answer me Edward, tell me your dirty little secret. Did you love him?”

 

\- - - - -

 

3 weeks later and The Scarecrow and the Arkham Knight’s plan had been both set into motion and completely squandered over the course of one evening.

 

Typical.

 

While Scarecrow and Stagg’s 'Cloud-Burst’ has been successful in coating each and every single square inch of the City in it’s noxious orange plume, apparently Batman, with the help of Poison Ivy, had managed to neutralise the effects of the weapon and successfully saved Gotham City from yet another close encounter with imminent destruction.

 

Once again, that was just typical.

 

According to Oswald, Ivy had bit the bullet while powering her plants to neutralise Scarecrow’s new brand of fear gas. Edward really wished he could say he’d miss her, but that would be a lie. Truly he felt more for Harley. She was alone now with Pamela out of the picture. Poor girl.

 

Currently sat inside the main holding cells inside the G.C.P.D, Edward was sat leaning against the glass wall of the cell behind him with an soaking wet ice-bag pressed against his pounding head and his nose stuck in a book of children’s riddles the guards apparently hadn’t felt the need to confiscate. Normally he’d have spent some of his free time in the cells winding up his fellow inmates with his usual line of questioning, but truthfully he didn’t like the look of some of his bedfellows. In particular, the one calling himself Professor Pyg and the one known as Deathstroke had successfully managed to curb Edwards behaviour. You could never tell how the newbies were going to act, but just looking at them Edward managed to suss out that neither were worth a modicum of his precious time, he’d had a rough enough night already without those two just adding to his headache.

 

Just as he flipped the page into what the book was referring to as the 'Advanced Section’ (pfft!) the whole of the G.C.P.D erupted with jeering howls and maddening screams as several of the surviving members of the G.C.P begun making their way through the narrow path in between the regular holding cells and towards the Maximum Security cell Edward and the rest of this pack of psychopaths were stuck in.

At first Edward decided to ignore the officers, refusing to even bless them with the privilege of his much sought after attention, but when he saw what the officers were dragging along behind them Edward couldn’t help but look towards the bleeding, broken mass being dragged across the floor with a feeling in his bones that he hadn’t felt in a very, very VERY long time. Edward felt guilty.

 

The figure being dragged by the officers was none other than one of the men behind tonight’s events, The Scarecrow himself. It was almost amusing to see the once all-powerful figure of pure unadulterated fear reduced to nothing more than a whimpering, rambling mess being dragged along the floor covering in his own blood and filth. Almost. Mostly it just stung.

 

The doors to the Maximum Security Cell sprung open and without a second thought the Officers tossed The Scarecrow into the cell with excessive force before slamming the door shut behind them, sealing all the inmates back inside the glass-cell before any of them had the chance to even consider trying to escape. Edward had to hand it to them, they’d really stepped up their game tonight.

 

Around the cell, the other inmates all shifted backwards at the sight of the broken man lying on the ground and begun trying to make themselves look busy. Edward however continued to stare down at the muttering mess on the ground with a raised eyebrow and an odd iciness filtering through his veins.

 

“Bats. Bats. BaTs! BATS! No no no no NO! GET THEM OFF OF ME!” The Scarecrow screamed wildly as he ran his hands along his masked face feverishly, blood seeping from between the slits in the mask as his pawing irritated the delicate stitching in his completely destroyed face.

 

In his comfortable spot in the corner, Edward could almost swear that he could see tears slipping free from the corners of the masked figures horribly pale eyes as fear ironically begun destroying his body. Edward couldn’t help but smirk to himself at the sight.

 

That night all those weeks ago, Edward had simply picked up and left that awful boutique without even bothering to answer The Scarecrows pathetic little jibes, although looking down at the broken figure across the cell from him now, the answer was painfully clear.

 

No, he never had loved Jonathan.

 

Edward really wished he believed that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you could leave Kudos/Feedback then that'd be greatly appreciated. It's such a cliche, but a little support really does go a long way.
> 
> My Tumblr is TheBustyStClair.tumblr.com so feel free to leave me a message there if you'd prefer.


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